"Tell me, Ian," she said in a friendlier tone of voice, "you are an excellent student, you read a great deal, you have a strong interest in nature and in science, what is it you would like to be, exactly?"
Her interest in him took us both by surprise.
"I'm still exploring my options,'" he said. "It will be something to do with medicine, however."
"You want to help people, east their pain and suffering?"
Ian's eyes blinked and then narrowed. "I think I'd be better in research," he replied.
"Yes, so do I," Grandmother Emma said. "Research." The way she said it made it sound like something inferior.
"In the end I'll still be helping people," Ian said defensively. "I just won't have to deal with and be distracted by all the unnecessary bureaucratic business.'"
"Make no mistake in your brilliant thinking, Ian," Grandmother Emma told him, "even research scientists working in some laboratory are still affected and involved with politics. Money has to be raised. Contributors convinced. Don't neglect your people skills. Your grandfather was very bright and capable, too, but he was also very good at public relations. He was an expert when it came to diplomacy. You can't live in a vacuum."
Ian stiffened as if he had been scratched down his back. "I know that. Nothing can live in a vacuum," Ian told her. "It's like burying your head in the sand."
He could have reached out and stuck his fork in her and gotten the same reaction. She bristled, her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips so hard against each other, they resembled two nightcrawlers glistening in the rain. It was too much of a
coincidence not to know that Ian, and perhaps I, had listened in on her conversation with Mama.
Fortunately, before anything else was said, our food was served. None of us spoke. We ate quietly. When we were nearly finished, she asked if either Ian or I wanted any dessert. I did, but Ian said no, so I shook my head. He looked anxious to leave. It was starting to rain anyway.
"Then let's get home." Grandmother Emma said, "before this rain gets worse." She signaled for the check.
We rode the rest of the way in silence. The sprinkles turned into a downpour.
"We're in for a night of thunderstorms,'" Felix said, and then we saw some hail. It pelted the car and made it sound as if a chorus of dancers were doing a tap dance on the roof. As we approached the house, Grandmother Emma asked me about what time I took my medicine every day.
"As soon as I wake up," I said. "That way I won't forget."
"I'll check on her," Ian told her.
She said nothing. When we arrived, it was still raining and hailing. Felix held an umbrella over Grandmother Emma and got her into the house. Then he brought in our bags and we carried them up to our rooms. I was worried about Mama and wished she would call to let us know she was all right. I was sure Ian was worried, too. After Grandmother Emma left us to go to her room. I asked him about it.
"I have the telephone number for the cabin," he revealed. "If we don't hear from her in the morning, we'll call her," he promised. ''Go put your things away. I'll be in to see you before you go to sleep."
I was glad he said that. I felt so frightened and alone knowing Mama and Daddy were having a serious discussion that could get mean and angry while we were so far away. It had been a long rollercoaster day, mixed with sad moments, fun moments at the stables, and then unnerving moments at the cabin and afterward in the limousine and restaurant. I truly felt like I had been tossed and turned, bumped, shoved, and bounced, just like someone in a car crash, rolling over and over down some steep embankment.
Because I hadn't taken a shower or a bath today. I decided I would do that before I went to sleep. I started to run my bath and put my things away. Then I went into the bathroom, took off my clothes, and put the bath oils into the water. I got into the tub and closed my eyes. It was so soothing and warm. I nearly fell asleep and probably would have if Ian didn't come in.
"That's good," he said. "I meant to tell you that you should probably take a bath first."
"Did Mama call yet?"
"No," he said. He stood there, looking down at me. I saw he had something in his hand. It looked like a small soup bowl. "How long have you been in there?"
"I don't knlow."
"Well, it's time you came out. I want to do something that I think will help us understand if the medicine is helping with your precocious puberty."
He reached for the bath towel and held it out. I rose and began to dry myself. He stood there watching and waiting. When I reached for my pajamas, he told me to wait. He picked them up and walked out to my bedroom.
"Come over here and lie down," he said. "You don't need the towel," he added, so I put it in the hamper.
He pulled back the blanket and told me to lie down on my back. "What is that?" I asked him, nodding at the cup in his hand.
"Something I invented. It's a device for breast development measurement," he said. "I have it marked in centimeters so it will be more exact," he said. I didn't know what that was, but I could see the precision with which he created his invention.
I crawled onto my bed and lay down as he wanted. "Just relax," he said.
He leaned over me and put the cup over my right bud. I saw him adjusting it so it would tighten and close until he was satisfied. Then he wrote something on a pad he had in his pocket and took the cup off. He then put it on my left bud and did the same thing.
"Okay," he said. "Sit up. I want to do this with you erect. This is a different measurement."
I sat up and he started to do the same thing. He had his back to the door, but I turned and saw Grandmother Emma standing there and looking in on us. I will probably never forget the look on her face. It was as if some terrible and horrible monster was about to pounce on her. She leaned back and even raised her arms to block out what she saw or keep the monster from her. In her grimace she brought the corners of her lips so deeply back and into her slim, thin cheeks, it looked like she had bitten on a sharp long knife. Even at this distance, her eyes resembled two bubbling volcano openings about to explode.
"IAN!" she finally managed to scream. The shout echoed around the room.
I felt my body freeze and my heart shrink in my chest. I knew I wasn't breathing.
Ian calmly and simply turned to look at her as if it was nothing to see her in my doorway, to see her on our side of the mansion, but mostly as if there was nothing wrong, no reason for her to scream or look the way she looked.
For a moment his coolness and steady composure did throw her. I saw the confusion ripple through her face. Where was his shame, his fear, his guilt? Was she crazy? Was she the person doing something wrong?
Ian still had his hand on his cup invention and it was still under my budding breast. He hadn't even winced when she had shouted. He remained calm, waiting.
Grandmother Emma's mouth seemed unable to find words. It opened and closed, opened and closed, and for a moment, she looked like a fish out of water, gasping. She lowered her arms and took a step forward. "What do you think you're doing?" she managed.
Ian looked at me and then back at her, still holding the cup against me. "I'm keeping track of Jordan's precocious development to determine the effectiveness of the medication," he said.
"This is disgusting. This is... filthy and disgusting. Get away from her this instant and go to your room. Go on!" she shouted.
Ian took the cup away, but paused to write in his pad. Then he walked slowly out of the room, halting in the doorway and turning back to her.
"Scientific investigation is never disgusting, never filthy, but only in the minds of people who think that way themselves," he said.
Grandmother Emma's already reddened cheeks looked so crimson, it seemed a fire was burning in her mouth. "Don't you ever, ever come near your sister when she is undressed again," she warned. "This is sinful and incestuous and I will not have it under my roof. Do you understand?"
"No," Ian said. "I've never understood ignorance," he added, and went to
his room.
She stood there, literally shaking and looking after him for a few moments and then she burst forward and shut the door before turning to me.
"What else has he done to you or with you?" she asked. "I want you to tell me immediately, Jordan. You are not to lie to me, ever. What else?"
I shook my head. I was even too frightened to cry. My tears were stack somewhere behind my eyes. "Nothing else, Grandmother," I said.
"He touched you. Did he touch you?" She stepped up to the bed. "Well? Show me. Where did he touch you? Show me!" she shouted.
Finally, my tears, like water dammed up, burst forward and streamed freely down my cheeks.
"I know he gave you that filthy book to read, that book about sex. What else did he give you?"
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing."
"Don't you know something terrible could happen between the two of you? No, of course you don't know, she answered for herself. "Where are your pajamas?"
"Right there," I said, nodding at them on the chair where Ian had put them.
"Get them on immediately," she ordered.
She watched me get dressed. I crawled back into bed and quickly pulled the blanket up and under my chin.
She stood there, still staring at me. "What else has he done with you?" she asked again. "Where else has he touched you?"
I was afraid to tell her about his touching my nipple so I shook my head, but she was as good as the X-ray machine that had taken pictures of the inside of my head. She read lies.
"I know you're not telling me everything, Jordan. I know you're frightened, but you must never, never let him touch your body like that again. Do you understand? Do you?"
"Yes, Grandmother."
"I will have a discussion about this with your mother and father as soon as possible, but until then, he's not to come into your room unless I or some other adult is present as well. Is that clear, too?"
I nodded.
"I should have suspected something like this. A boy that age having no friends, not going to any parties, not belonging to any teams, spending all that time alone doing who knows what with himself. I should have known. I did know. In my heart. I knew but refused to admit it to myself. Your mother isn't all wrong about me. I do bury my head in the sand too much sometimes, but I won't anymore. I promise you that," she said, nodding with clear and firm
determination in her eyes.
She started for the door and then turned and looked back at me.
"I'll be here in the morning,'" she said. "I'll be around here much more often, too. Don't disobey me."
"Okay, Grandmother, ' I said.
"Dispsting. Horrible. A disgrace piled on a disgrace," she muttered, and then opened the door, switched off my lights, and went out, closing the door behind her.
I lay there in the darkness, my heart still pounding. Minutes later, the door was opened again.
It was Ian.
He stood there looking in at me. I was about to tell him he should stay out. She might see him or hear him.
But he wasn't coming in. He just wanted to tell me something.
"I hate her guts," he said. "I hate her more than anything or anyone."
Then he backed up and closed the door, leaving me in the darkness with lightning flashing on my windows and crackling in every carrier of my room.
17 The World Is Full of "Should Haves"
. Ian would blame Grandmother Emma for the rest of his life. Although I never thought him capable of great love for anyone, even great love for anything, including science. I realized quickly he was capable of great and deep hatred. It would fester and grow inside him and, despite the pride he took in his self- control, his command of himself, his emotions and thoughts, it eventually would overtake him and turn his pursuit of happiness into a vain dream. It was as if a filter tinted dark gray had fallen over his eyes and changed his view of the world. In the end I pitied him more than I pitied any of us, which was ironic because I always believed Ian would find success and contentment. He had such confidence and clear ambition. How could he ever get lost?
It would be years before the pieces would come together for me. Each moment, each action, even each word, would have to be placed correctly so the puzzle would make sense. At the time I was too young to understand, but gradually, small revelations would help me guide my hands so I could fit it all together to create the picture I would live with, the picture locked in my heart like the two pictures of Mama and Daddy sealed in my birthday locket.
It began almost immediately after Grandmother Emma had left my room that night she caught Ian examining me. I try, even now, to understand her. Ian, of course, refused to do that. Understanding is, after all, the first giant step toward forgiveness and that's a place he will never go.
"I can forgive the fox that eats the rabbit, the snake that eats the mouse, because I can understand them. They have a selfish purpose, yes, but it's the natural order of things. It's beyond their control," he told me once. "They're not mean about it. They're aggressive and determined so they can survive, but Grandmother Emma is like a fox that kills a rabbit and leaves it to rot. It's aggressive and determined just to satisfy some meanness.
It would take me a long time to decide if he was right or wrong.
Some of the pieces of the puzzle Ian brought to me. He was far more perceptive and aware at the time, of course, and he could turn his microscopic eyes and probing mind on the events like a giant flashlight, washing away deception, confusion, half truths, and excuses. I was at an age when I would miss much that went on around me. Innuendos, subtle meanings, a look or expression, even a blank stare or words unspoken were within Ian's vision.
He was sullen and still, poised, but keenly listening and watching, recording every second, every gesture, even, detail with a genius for detecting I'm sure every policeman, detective, law enforcement agent would love to possess. He fed everything to me, revealing what he learned and thought like some translator at a high level government meeting between dignitaries of two foreign countries.
And so to his best ability and mine, we first came to understand the chronology of the series of events that would change both our lives forever and ever.
After what she had seen going on between Ian and me, Grandmother Emma called the cabin.
Mama and Daddy had been talking, discussing their marriage and Daddy's bad behavior. Daddy answered the phone and Grandmother Emma described what she saw happening in my bedroom.
My parents put everything aside and rushed out of the cabin to come home.
The hail and rain thunderstorms were still swirling about, even growing stronger, when the inclement weather cell, as Ian called it, thickened.
Daddy was driving.
He took a sharp turn too quickly and the car lost traction. It hit the guardrail broadside and turned over the railing.
The car rolled and bounced nearly one hundred yards before it rested upside down. The lights fortunately remained on and a passing motorist saw it almost immediately after the accident had occurred.
Fire trucks, tow trucks, and an ambulance arrived with the police.
Both Mama and Daddy were alive and taken to the hospital.
It was nearly four in the morning before Grandmother Emma was woken by the phone call from the highway police.
She called for Felix, her driver, dressed, and left for the hospital in Honesdale, Pennsylvania.
She had left instructions for Nancy and at seven AM. Nancy came to our bedrooms to tell us our parents had been in a car accident. Nancy had been told to be sure I took my medicine. She had also been instructed to stay close to me and be sure Ian did not come into my room or have any contact with me until I was washed, dressed, and down to breakfast. She stood there and recited all that to me as if she were reading an official proclamation.
Neither Mama nor Daddy had fastened their seat belts, which was the first important clue for Ian. He said that meant they were emotionally disturbed enough to be put into a panic and when peop
le are in a panic, they forget to do things or do stupid things. Later, when we found out they had taken nothing with them. Ian was certain he was right. Mama had not even taken her pocketbook, much less any suitcase or overnight bag.
Ian thought Grandmother Emma's phone call had come. Daddy had hung up, and they had charged out of the cabin. Mr. Pitts said they had left some lights on and the door unlocked. Ian thought that they had been in the middle of their discussions, which he thought were still more like arguments, and whatever Grandmother Emma had told Daddy. Daddy had blamed on Mama and then Mama had blamed on him. He said they must have been in the middle of a horrible argument.
The police report noted that Daddy had been drinking and a blood test revealed he was above the limit. Mama must have been quite upset to let him drive. Ian concluded.
Those were the pieces of the puzzle the way he saw them.
That morning he was at breakfast before me. Nancy accompanied me out of my bedroom and down the stairs. She made me feel like a prisoner, but I could see she was terrified of being accused of not following Grandmother Emma's orders. Whatever Grandmother Emma said to her must have been threatening and Nancy didn't want to lose her position. She was paid well and had been here many years. Eventually, we would find out she was sending money to a sick brother, and it was the only money he had.
"What do you know about the accident?" Ian asked her as soon as we entered the dining room.
"I don't know anything about it," Nancy said. She quickly started for the kitchen.
"What time did it happen?" Ian shouted after her.
"I don't know," she said, and went into the kitchen.
"Are they all right?" I asked Ian.
"I don't know any more than you do," he said. He quickly drank his juice. He was already very suspicious. "I certainly don't know why they would leave to come home at night. Everything had been arranged. If they didn't want to stay together, they wouldn't have left together anyway. Mother still had our car and Father had to have his rental yet."